There is a light that never goes out
by Stupid Froggy
Summary: "Life is very long when you're lonely."


I was raised with vengeance ingrained in my mind, beaten in by my father, the head of my clan. You're the successor of the Yagami Clan, your mother died for your birth. Your life is short, you must make whats good of it. You must avenge our clan. You must master your tainted flames. The flames that the Kusanagi clan reject. We are nothing to them but scum. They want to kill us as much as we want to kill them. The head of the Kusanagi clan laughs at our shame. Having our ancestor killed by a Kusanagi. The Kusanagi's condemned us and cursed us, for being the way that we are. They don't appreciate the Orochi blood. The true essence of a warrior. You must be faster Iori, you must be quicker. You must, kill the Kusanagi heir, so that your ancestors can rest peacefully.

I never liked fighting. It hurt me, and it hurt others, it felt needless. Everything felt needless. I trained constantly, my head empty of all thoughts, and morals, I was turning into the kind of man, my father wanted me to be, a ruthless killing machine. One that didn't look back, one that didn't care who's blood I spilled. Backlash from the training was terrible. I had mastered my flames at a young ripe age, naturally being a Yagami my pain tolerance was something that was a given, but my body could never prepare me for the pain that I felt the first time they emerged. I can't even describe such a feeling. My father forced me to ignite my flames until they couldn't hurt me anymore. My father, was always looming over me, always telling me to, keep training, and the "The Yagami clan has no use for the weak" I always kept those words with me. I hated him. I hated them.

Back then what I wanted most was for my father to see me for what I actually was, a person. Not an heir. More than that I wanted him to be proud of me. I wanted him and the elders to accept me. I wanted them to see that I was worth my mother's death. The woman I never met. The woman who sacrificed her life for me. I ask myselftime and time again was it really worth it? Being born into this kind of world. A world of vengeance.

Vengeance is a light that never goes out.

When I was old enough I was told about the Orochi blood. An ancient demon that lived inside of my flowing human flesh giving me power beyond my wildest dreams. It was a weakness in my opinion. It was loosing control. It was becoming nothing but a blood thirsty machine. What my father wanted. I told myself that I'd never let myself get to that point. I'd never be exactly what he wanted. I told my self that, but the inevitable happened.

It happened for the first time at the age of twelve. I don't remember much of it. I remember passing out of from pain. When I woke up I saw a sight that disgusted me. Dead members of the Yagami clan, all around the japanese garden. I heard the water fall drip into the distance. I rushed to the sound of the water and jumped in. Wanting to wash myself of all the blood on my hands. I didn't feel sadness, I didn't feel anger, just true disgust. I must've done this. I must've used the Orochi, but how? But why? When? Why not. Why now was the demon possessing me. When I looked up from the water I saw my father, smiling at me. Smiling for the first time in all of the time I've known him,as a mad man.

"Son that is it. That is the way of the Yagami clan." Those words hurt me. This is what I was. I showed my father no emotion and brushed past him. I didn't sleep after that.

The years passed and I became the head of my clan at the age of 17. It was the same night that I had my last battle with my father. It's tradition. Killing off the lastheir, the newest heir steps forward. I knew that. I didn't care about his death. It didn't touch me. It didn't faze me. All I've ever associated my father with was pain and training, and my cursed flames. Killing him somehow put me at ease, But it felt like a pain. I've always hated fighting.

When my father was dead and gone, I finally felt like I could think again. If I'd ever started. For a while I even started my own life. I avoided fighting at all cost. I got into music, I'd learned I was pretty good at the bass guitar. It somehow calmed me down and I even felt like I was somewhere away from this world of vengeance, away from the thought of the Kusanagi clan, and away from the memory of my father.

I loved it. In retrospect it was the first thing I've ever loved, an instrument. My life, I felt like it was going to be one worth living when I played, I felt like I could truly speak when I picked up my guitar. I was never good with words, I could never look anyone in the eye. But when I was one with my music, everything became clear. It calmed my blood. I could smile to myself.

I decided it was what I wanted to do with my life. At the end of highschool I'd made up small melodies, by myself, eventually I put words to them. These words weren't sad. They were about everyday living, the way I wanted to live, the way I could never live. Because of the Orochi blood. I could never let anyone get close. I always admired people from a far. I could never talk to them, I could never get close and make friends, I only knew the concept of a friend. From what I seen day to day, the definition in the dictionary is wrong. They're so much more than that. Friendship is something that I want to believe you can't put into words.

At that point in my life I wanted it to happen. I so badly wanted it, but it was so far, and I knew I wouldn't be accepted. I've heard what everyone else thinks of me. I've heard what the teachers think of me, and even the woman at the super market. In their eyes, I'm a stuck up creep. To them I'm probably bad news. They were right. I knew they were right and that's what hurt more.

I threw myself into music. Desperately writing down what I wanted. What I really needed, my dreams. I decided one day, to say them out loud. I read somewhere that a dream and a hope is something that is only an idea, until it materialized, until it was spoken upon. The words came out of my mouth with the melody that my bass was giving off. I was singing. The words flowed with my rhythm and the feeling I got when I played bass got stronger. I knew that I wanted to keep doing this for the rest of my life.

Night time makes me feel at ease. There are fewer people around, fewer people to gawk and stare. No one to talk to. No one to somehow explain myself. I go on my balcony and I watch the sky as I play a tune and sing along words that are coming out of my mind. The world is lost to me until I hear footsteps.

I abruptly stop and I look around. It could be anyone. I see a small woman, she's wearing a white headband, she's got long finger nails and from her clothes I can tell she's not an ordinary person. She's from one of the clans. Has to be. I sigh eternally. I was enjoying myself. She speaks to me. I can't help but stay and listen. A weird feeling comes from her. One of purification.

"Iori Yagami." She said looking straight into my eyes. I couldn't help but look away. I was uncomfortable. She spoke once more.

"You have a beautiful voice. Your musical skills sound lovely. Does it make you happy?" She asked after giving me a compliment. No one has ever given me a compliment. Except members of the Yagami clan. My father, and those were for blood lust, sickening blood lust.

I felt alone and confused at that moment. This woman made me feel even lonelier then I did before. I didn't want to answer her, I'd tell the truth, I would tell her that I loved it, that it was why I could keep going. But who was this woman? Upon hearing that would she take it away from me? She must be from another clan. I spoke for the first time.

"What clan are you from?" I asked sternly. My eyes not moving from her for a second. She just smiled andthrew a card up to where I was standing. It hit my feet, it looked like a business card. When I looked back she was gone. I never forgot her face, or that strange feeling that she gave me.

I looked at the contact info and decided to call the number, it turns out it was a producer for musicians. I smiled to myself when I found out.

I was immediately signed when I eventually gave in and called the person on the card. I'd come in and performed to him and right then and there I was given a manager and a requirement to make an album and gather band mates, I asked the company to give me some. I didn't know anyone else who would be interested. I smiled to myself knowing that I'd have to coöperate with whatever people this company gave me, but in the back of my mind I felt like it was a good thing. Maybe I could make a friend, maybe I could break this cycle of loneliness. If music was with me, I felt like I wouldn't be bothered by my blood.

I felt like it would all work out. I would make up for my brutal childhood with an adulthood I could cherish.

I only wished, that was until the year of 1994.

The king of fighters.

To be continued.

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><p><strong>I made this story because I felt like it needed to exist. There's nothing more I can really say. It's a bit more serious from what I normally do, but screw it, I've got heart. Shout out to all my niggas that just want friends.<strong>


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